Pinkamena
by thatonecrazyginger
Summary: A story about young Pinkie and Rainbow Dash living under tyrant Celestia. Sad sad sad


Morning came bright and vivid in the town of Ponyville, and the Pegasi were hard at work removing the clouds from the orange sky. The air smelled of apples and warmth and summer days, and the early ponies were warily making their rounds, shifty eyed, working as hard as they could to get the job done so they might get their few bits' pay. Hoping that today would be the day; that Queen Celestia would finally let the night waft its coolness upon their sweaty coats.

Meanwhile a pink filly was very hard at work, slogging through jagged rocks and hoofing frantically for granite chunks that needed to be moved to the East Field. Just the granite ones. They do better over there. She dragged a lopsided cart over the desolate ground, tongue dry, flat hair draped over her grey eyes. The cruel, watchful sun was beating down on her like she hoped the ponies at home wouldn't when she got back. Why Celestia made the sun so hot all the time was a mystery to her subjects, but they kept their heads down and didn't ask. Nobody asked questions anymore; they just grit their teeth and dealt with it. Which was what Pinkimina was best at. Sweat ran down her face as she anxiously piled more and more rocks into her cart. The enormous heap loomed over her, but maybe she would be able to carry it to the other side of the rock farm.

"Gotta… I gotta get done. I gotta move the pipe after this, Hubert; I gotta get it done before they come out." She said to the rocks as chipped hooves trod painstakingly over jagged stones. Hopefully they'd be nice. Everything would be okay.

She dragged her lopsided cart, feeling it bump and nudge at the edges of the path like a disobedient dog on a leash, her throat closing in the rising panic she was drowning in.

She saw the blue-black pelt of her mother and a jolt ran through her belly and down to her hooves. Sweat slicked her hair down over her face and she tried her best to see through the pink sheet.

"Pinkimina." The filly gave a cringe at the sound of the disapproving voice. The cart pulled at her sides and she felt a fat lump of panic rising in her small throat. "What is this?"

Pinkimina gave a small wail as she looked at the large sandstone boulder she had mistakenly placed among the piles and piles of granite.

The young Pegasus flitted over the barren rock farm, heavily laden with mail for everyone in Ponyville. Her vibrant, multicolored mane flapped heavily behind her, straggly and darkened with sweat. Her blue ears rang from being boxed the day before; she had missed an entire neighborhood street and lost all of their mail. Mr. Cake, her boss; the mail master, had gotten rather angry, perhaps a little more than she thought he should have.

Suddenly. . . What's that sound? It sounded like a higher pitched bawl. She puzzled to herself, keeping her eyes skinned over the gray expanse of the rock farm below her.

Dashie didn't know how low she was flying until an old, decrepit windmill blade snagged the side of her saddle bag, throwing her off balance and sending her hurtling thirty feet to the ground. She skidded over disorganized mounds of jaggy stones before landing in a rather bloody blue heap, in the shifting shade of the windmill.

She spit out a tooth and stood shakily to her feet, cursing at her keenness to find the sound. She shouldn't have let it bother her. She spread her wings to find her flight feathers bent, and hung her head. Dash would have to walk now, she would be late, and be at risk of another clout to the head. The mail was scattered everywhere, dusted with black dirt. She was just about to pick it up when a sharp cry resonated from around the windmill, the same one she had heard before. The Pegasus peered around it and watched as a pink filly, about a hundred feet away, stumbled from an older, blue-black mare among sheets of jagged rocks. A slightly askew cart piled high with granite was hooked to the little one's sides, and she tried frantically to slip out of her harness as the mare pursued her.

Frightened, Dash stared, unable to watch, unable to look away from the scene she was watching. A stab of pity caught her in the throat at the awful words the mare was spitting, about worthless and doing it wrong and stupid.

Dashie considered heeding to the filly's helpless outbursts, trying not to listen to the sound of hooves against flesh. With a glance of her bright eyes toward them, her resolve to assist her dissolved and she turned away. Pink-hair shouldn't have done the job wrong, after all, even if her boss was being a little over the top about punishing her. Times are tough, she reasoned, as the oppressive heat weighed down her half-empty saddle bags.

Her cries got louder now, shriller; more frantic. Terrified, Dash galloped off before things got worse, sending a spray of gravel beneath her hooves, leaving her mail scattered before the creaky windmill. She didn't look back at the broken filly behind her.

Times are tough.

Meanwhile, Celestia in the sun beat her rays down upon her subjects, the battered filly, the angry persecutor, and the horrified witness, watching to see how things would play out.

Pinkimina sat for hours inside the muggy windmill, too scared to even look to see if the door was unlocked; that she might be let out. Too terrified to move her sore joints and be heard inside, even though she was put in there by her mother herself. It was an accident she moved the sandstone boulder to the wrong field, but even so the filly felt crushingly guilty. She deserved what she got.

It was incredibly dark and dusty inside the old thing, and the unbearable heat muffled the oxygen around her, making the sweaty silence even more agonizing. Too scared to even breathe, the pony turned her aching head to hear if anyone was coming, and when she heard no one, she decided to get the courage to move to her Special Place.

Pinkimina crawled snakelike under the rafters of the loft, which was actually just some splintered planks of wood placed a few feet above the ground, so it was a perfectly discreet place to hide. Anxious excitement pricked at her chipped hooves as she waited edgily for any sort of sound, and then pulled a thin strand of beads above her. The space beneath the loft was bathed in grainy, orange light from the dying light bulb, and Pinkimina had to blink a few times to become accustomed to it.

Spread before her was her favorite rock, a dented bucket and a radish that had stayed in the sun too long. A surge of relief came over the delusional pony at her false sense of security. She was among comrades now.

"H…. Hello." She whispered, and the rock came to life before her.

"Hello Pinkie Pie, I love you!" Said the rock in her own voice.

Tears welled up in her eyes, as they always did when he said so. To her, though, this was the first time it had ever said the beautiful phrase. Nobody had ever said that to her before.

She stayed by the bulb in case she had to pull the switch if she heard anyone coming, but became as settled as she could with stiff muscles. She moved the rock closer so she could move it to whatever it was saying. "Hubert," she started, and was about to say how hurt she was, but decided not to. The rock was innocent to the cruel talons of the outside world.

"Yes Pinkie, tell me." She responded in the rock's voice.

"I…" She didn't want to leave the poor rock hanging, so she continued on a different event of the day. "I moved the sandstone to the granite field by accident."

Hubert gasped. "You didn't."

Pinkimina nodded and went back to being Hubert. "You worthless, stupid pony."

A stab of pain pierced her delicate, dead balloon of a heart. "No… See, Hubert. It was an accident…"

"It doesn't matter, Pinkie." Continued the rock as she put movements to its words. "You did it wrong, and you deserved it."

"I'm…. I… I'm sorry." Another tear rolled down her cheek and she put the rock down; tried not to listen to the damaging words it spewed at her. Even the bucket and radish were angry at her.

She turned around, huddled in sand that dusted her coat a greyish color, and cried.

The sun glared down upon the tiny town of Ponyville and watched it fry. Everyone had gone in for the nighttime hours, with tender sunburnt skin that needed ointment. The air was tense and dry, and ponies were beginning to fear for their lives, knowing that any day, the heat would make everyone turn on each other and forget themselves. It was already beginning to happen; the maddening heat making blood boil. Things were getting worse.

It was hours after midnight, and Dash was still awake. She couldn't stop thinking about the poor pink filly she didn't help earlier today. Guilt clenched her belly with hot angry hooves, just like the ones she'd seen in the rock field.

She wrapped her sore wings around her and hid her face in her warm pillow, unable to get the face out of her mind, the cries for help. The delirious scene replayed feverishly in her head over and over.

"Stop it, stop it stop it stop." She muttered into her sweaty hair. "You'll probably never see her again anyway." Fillies that small didn't last long these days.

Even so, her mind didn't stray far from Pinkimina all the agonizing night long.

"Hey, Twilight Sparkle," Said Dashie to the older filly as she gave her the mail. The purple unicorn was old enough to live by herself and was rich enough to afford a place of her own. She even had enough money to purchase a baby dragon slave, who waited on her every whim. Even rich, Twilight was the first pony to go insane from the endless heat, and muttered violently to herself as her horn sparked and glowed at unhealthy levels. The dragon skittered about from underhoof and wasn't slowed by her accidental kicks, panting and trying to loosen his collar with slippery, damp hands. Briefly Dash wondered if it had stunted his growth somehow, as he only stood at two or three hands.

"Come, Spike," Said Twilight in between mutters, "We have to write letters."

"Yes, Twilight, uh, Ma'am." He stammered, wringing his wrists nervously, and followed her loyally into her broken down library, getting kicked on his way in. She didn't even notice.

Dash shuddered and continued her route, hoping the rock farm wasn't receiving any mail today.

She tripped over a pale yellow Pegasus, knocking over her saddlebag full of seed. "YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" She said, getting in Dashie's face, spraying her with spittle, as she tried scraping the kernels back into the bag.

"S…Sorry," Spluttered Dash, and backed up. The crazed filly's pink hair was matted and under washed, and she glared with brutal teal eyes. The seed was dirty and unusable now, but she pushed most of it back into her bag and huffed off with a kick of her hooves, taking flight. The butterfly cutie mark she brandished was far from appropriate.

Tremors ran down Pinkimina's spine, followed by a spasm in her left eye and both ears. Suddenly fearful, she turned off the light long before the door opened. Her nerves, made hypersensitive by the daily pains and escapades, made her susceptible of her surroundings before things happened. She had wondered before if her body took the opposite effect of hard work; instead of becoming calloused, she was thin-skinned now, not unlike the tender exterior of a balloon.

That's why they marked her flank; the three perfect balloons on a pink canvas.

Her mother stood in the doorway, heat waves building a ghostlike silhouette around her.

"Pinkimina," She said softly. "Have you been crying?" Her words were more of a statement than a question and her tone gave off fake warmth. The filly flinched, but slunk over to her mother, willing to apologize for her actions even if it meant another beating. She brushed off the small pony's tears brusquely, stiffly, but Pinkimina ate up the soft touch like a starved puppy. She accepted it even after yesterday, forgetting the bad things that happened. She was so longing for loving physical contact that her brain twisted that hoof on her face into one. Her mother lingered for a split moment, bewildered, amused even, but ready to humor her for another split second before pulling suddenly, coldly away. The pink pony kept her neck stretched for a few more moments in the hope that the hoof would come back, but it never did.

"Pinkimina." She repeated sharply. Suddenly fearful again, the pony was cowed back into her nervous whipped-pony posture. "You need to harvest all the slate in the next four hours. We have someone picking it up at sun high." The mare chuckled at her own joke, knowing the sun wasn't going anywhere from its highest point. "And you need to hurry. No poking around, remember?"

She remembered.

"Go on, get."

Terrified, she flew.

She woke up sweating.

This was the third night in a row.

She couldn't take it any longer.

Dashie shook the sounds of the filly's cries out of her spectral mane and rose sleepily out of her straw bedding. No more nightmares.

She had to help her.

She passed the post office that morning at the speed of light, a shiver of fear and anticipation running down her spine at the prospect of her skipping work. She risked far more than a clout to the ears if she did this. Dashie was full-on ditching work.

And she kind of liked it.

She could only hope Queen Celestia wouldn't shoot her out of the sky.

A ribbon of candy-colored rainbow shot like a jet from her wings, fading out about a ponylength from behind her. It took her four minutes to get to the rock farm.

She hit the chunks of sharp rock before she thought she would and tumbled loudly over them, sliding to a halt at the foot of the windmill. She had left a polychromatic skid mark from her hooves that ended in a rainbow crater where she hit the large wooden structure.

"Awesome." She gave a shuddered whisper, and turned toward the vast, endless fields. She didn't notice the red lightning bolt form on her flank when she raced off.

Pink, chapped hooves pawed feverishly at the ground for hours. Her mane was burning her neck. Nausea hung at her belly like a warm stone, and her words toward the rocks were slurred and indecipherable to anyone else but herself.

The sun was hot enough to squeeze the very breath out of you, and it stroked its searing tongue over the small filly who thought she could do more than she actually could. Really, she had no choice but to think so. She had an hour.

"Hubert, it's hot. My belly hurts." Rasped the pony confusedly. Her head spun as she took another step, as she lifted another stone into her cart. It wasn't slate, but her head was too clouded to even understand what she was doing. Everything was spinning in swirling grey and pale orange, but she persisted in taking another step, and another.

A blue shape came out of nowhere, telling her to stop. Just another hallucination. She had been getting those for a couple hours now.

"Listen, I'm here to help you!" Shouted Dashie for the second time. "I can help you escape!"

"Stop it!" Said the filly to the Pegasus, pushing her away. "I need to finish. I'm not done yet!" She swung her head away from her, drunkenly stumbling toward another pile of rocks. Her skin was dry; the filly had stopped sweating. Her body was beginning to shut down.

"I'm serious," Dash cried, panic spiking her voice, as she tugged at the straps of the cart. "We need to get out of here." The sun is killing you, she wanted to say, but she could tell Queen Celestia was listening in. At any moment, the Pegasus knew, she could remove the soul of this tiny subject. But she remained watching, seeing how it would play out.

This was a game to her.

How could she stand by like this?

"I said no!" Pinkimina shouted weakly, and knocked Dash off-balance.

The bad pony was trying to stop her from finishing her job. She had to get away.

Pinkimina pushed the Pegasus and tried galloping away, but her ankles gave way and she collapsed. The rocks burnt into her skin. Her mane, like a fallen flag, laid itself smoothly over the rocks. The heat was crushing her.

"I have... to finish…" The filly kicked outwards with her long legs and her eyes rolled back into her head. There was fear in her voice, and Dashie knew why.

"Shhh." Dash grunted as she loosened the straps on her harness. She needed to get her into the shade. The windmill provided a few inches of it, but it would have to do.

Slipping her head under the pink filly's emaciated body, Dash lifted her up and staggered over the craggy rocks. It was a few acres till she got there, and she had to keep the pony awake. She was draped like a saddle, limp, from her back, legs dragging in the dirt.

"Hey, hey," She said helplessly as she dragged herself over the hill. "What's your favorite color?"

"Hubert…."

"What's your favorite color?" Dash repeated, panicked.

She sighed. "Green…"

"Green, huh? Have you ever seen green?" Green was a fairytale; it only existed before Queen Celestia. The only other green was on the raggedy, faded pelts of the ponies, but even they had taken on the uniform ashy hue everyone obtained from being sun-bleached.

"Green." The word was a gasp, and she flailed her legs again in one jerk.

"Um, uh, what's your name?" The heat was keeping Dash from thinking of new questions, but she spat it out as she watched the windmill come into view.

"Pinkie…Pinkimin…"

"C'mon, Pinkie, just a few more moments." She was so close, but Pinkie was getting heavier and heavier.

"C'mon, Pinkie, it's all going to be okay."

The next thing Pinkimina remembered was the darkness. Fear clutched her heart in a tight fist, and she tried to stand, but the blue pony wouldn't let her.

"Don't move, don't move out of the shade."

Shade. It's just shade.

She wasn't in the windmill.

Everything hurt. Why did everything hurt? Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, and a small croak escaped her lips.

She couldn't save her any further than this. She reached out her hoof and stroked her mane, eyes blurring in confusion.

Pinkimina froze, refusing to believe in the loving touch of the Pegasus. Nothing had ever felt so sweet in her life, the concerned, sincere, gentle touch of another pony. She buried her face in the hoof, not getting enough of it. Her mouth opened in a final rasp of pleasure. She had found it. Finally, Pinkimina had found it and felt what it feels like. Love.

Something cool wafted over her, and the last thing she could glimpse was the stripe of green in the mane of the Pegasus, the winged angel. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Dash stood over Pinkie's body, tears of bewildered anger welling up in her eyes.

"_WHY, CELESTIA!" _She cursed at the sun, all judgment lost. "Why couldn't you just let this one pony live?" The last sentence was quieter as she slid to a laying position in the dirt. She could've been something. She had so much potential.

Shuddered sighs came from her throat, tears streaking down her dirty face. She was afraid to leave the body, knowing it would only be disposed of in a trash heap somewhere, by uncaring hooves.

Finally she planted herself at Pinkie's side and buried her face in her side, rocking the small creature. A tear ran lazily down her face as guilt weighed down on her. She could've saved her the first time she saw her, saw the thin filly take a beating down on the rock farm. But she didn't. She was too afraid.

She crouched for hours by Pinkie's side, not caring that the sun was killing her as well. It was probably better if it took her too. It was going to take them all.

A single, wispy cloud marred the fiery orb, providing no shade, but hiding Celestia's face as she turned her back on the two little fillies. She put a tally mark on the number of deaths since she kept the sun up. She was losing her kingdom too quickly.

Meanwhile, far below, Dash watched, bewildered, as Celestia sunk from her position in the sky.

Now? It had to happen _right now?_ Why not ten minutes earlier? Why not when it was supposed to happen?

She still stayed with Pinkie in the dirt as the moon rose higher.

The night was long awaited for, and everyone in Ponyville rejoiced at the restoring night, relief at the impossibly sweet coolness.

No one came out on the farm to get Pinkie; no one even noticed the two broken fillies at the base of a broken down windmill on some dusty, forgotten rock farm.


End file.
